


Deep Roots Endure

by BarPurple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Language, Told from POV of OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18950449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: A certain couple are very dear to the staff at Cliveden.





	Deep Roots Endure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Sheltering Tree](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441576) by [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/pseuds/Mottlemoth). 



> I've read The Sheltering Tree by the amazing Mottlemoth about a dozen times and each time I find something new to love about it. The last time I read it this idea hit me and shattered my writer's block like a lightening bolt. Mottlemoth was kind enough to let me post this. Thank you.

The guest services team at Cliveden were consummate professionals. Their combined efforts to see to every need of their guests, along with their discretion, had won them several awards, the most recent of which were subtly displayed in reception. It was a matter of pride to every member of the team that no matter how grumpy, pretentious, condescending, or just plain rude the guest, each and everyone received exemplary service. 

Of course, they had their favourite guests. The actors, the sports stars, the royals, all were cause for bartering and the occasional coin toss to decide who would work the rota during their stays. There were no arguments, except in one case. Oddly enough the couple who prompted the head of guest services to institute a 'my word is final in this case' policy could hardly be called famous. Although one had appeared in the press a few times he was overshadowed by the reason for those appearances. Dangerous criminals had a way of stealing the limelight from the dedicated officers of the law who sought to protect the public from them.

Detective Inspector Holmes-Lestrade and Mr Holmes-Lestrade were not celebrities, but the Cliveden staff adored them both and were fiercely protective of them. Those guests who made unsavoury comments about the couple found the hotel unable to accommodate future bookings. After Mr Holmes-Lestrade's younger brother became famous for assisting the Detective Inspector in some high profile cases the staff had to firmly escort several members of the press from the hotel. They had also had to waylay said younger brother, before he could barge into their suite, or the spa with apparently urgent business. On one legendary occasion several of the team had assisted in the subduing and arrest of a criminal who had followed the couple to the estate. The tips left after that incident had broken the previous record, and seen two members of the team receive, (unasked for), hand-written letters of recommendation for their applications to the police force.

The couple's generous nature was only part of the reason they were adored by the staff. They were so in love, that it brighten your day just by glancing at them, and unlike many of Cliveden's guests their love was absolutely sincere. Their gentle affection, their little terms of endearment for each other, the way they could be in a full restaurant and only have eyes for each other, had all been the cause of dreamy sighs from the staff. Pulses had been set racing by their requests for honey and melted chocolate. They ruined at least one set of sheets during every stay. The Detective Inspector's habit of answering their suite door bare-chested, hair-ruffled and a hastily pulled on pair of pyjama bottoms hanging from his hips had cause one awkwardly timed erection that had left poor William red-faced and convinced that the man was an incubus. A theory held out by the frequency of the noise complaints received from adjoining suites. Despite assurances that they would convey the message, the Holmes-Lestrades never heard a whisper from guest services about the complaints. To 'knock it off and shut the hell up' wasn't the sort of thing one could request of a real life fairy-tale couple.

Unbeknownst to either gentleman, they had quite set the bar on romance for many of the younger staff, and rekindled the hope of finding that special someone for some of the older ones. 

Katie had been here since Detective Lestrade's first visit, when he'd arrived late in the evening, in a car clearly provided by Mr Holmes, with a tatty backpack slung over one broad shoulder. She'd suspected a clandestine tryst, until he'd spoken Mr Holmes' name so tenderly, then she'd decided they were a busy married couple who had managed to get some time together unexpectedly. Every moment her and the rest of the staff had observed that weekend had confirmed her second theory, and begun the legend of the 'dreamy couple in the Orkney suite'.

She'd been here during their arrival that tense day after they had endured fire and kidnapping, and over the next few weeks seen the loving way in which they comforted and reassured each other. It had been during that visit when she had discovered they were not married, and in fact had not been romantically involved for very long at all. Mr Holmes' PA, Ms Houghton, had at one point given her a tiny wink as she slipped a brochure for Cliveden's wedding packages from the rack. It had not come as a surprise when she'd heard Eric and Angela, the wedding co-ordinators, gushing over the so-in-love couple that they were planning a spring wedding for.

She'd stood, unobtrusively at the back of the terrace and sniffled into her hankie as the two men exchanged their vows in the sunshine. Her boyfriend at the time, who had been stringing her along like he was the male voice in a certain Meatloaf song, had been told to sling his hook the next day. Oh, he had whined and wheedled, and then snarked and sneered at her obsession with 'that true love bullshit', but she had seen with her own eyes it happened, and she wasn't going to settle for a mediocre shag and empty promises. So what if she had to wait until she was in her forties to find her sunshine? No matter what idiots like her ex thought, life didn't end at twenty-five.

That had been three years ago. DI and Mr Holmes-Lestrade were due to arrive in, Katie checked her watch, seven minutes, for the second of their thrice yearly holidays here at Cliveden. Much had changed in the past three years; Katie was now one of six assistant managers of guest services; she had finished her bachelors degree and was working on her masters; when asked what she was studying she smiled and replied 'management', it was broadly true, as Ms Houghton said many things in life required management skills.

Katie would have felt much calmer about the most recent change to Cliveden if she could have spoken to Ms Houghton, unfortunately she had been in Europe for the past six days and out of contact. She took a deep breath and smoothed her shirt, some matters were beyond her control, and had to be dealt with ad hoc. She was certain of two things; one, that the gentlemen would not blame her for an act of nature; and two, she had dealt with the incident in the correct manner. Oh, but it was going to make them sad, and that was the cause of her jitters.

“Here we go.”

She arrived at the entrance just as their car was pulling up to the doors. With a real warm smile on her lips she stepped forward.

“Welcome back to Cliveden Mr and Mr Holmes-Lestrade.”

They both gave a little shiver at hearing their married names. (Please don't ever let them stop doing that.) 

“It is, as ever, a joy to be back.” She nodded in reply to Mr Holmes-Lestrades formal words.

“How are you Katie?” DI Holmes-Lestrade was ever more relaxed.

“I'm very well thank you, Detective Inspector.”

As usual he gave her a stern look at the use of his title. Katie smiled at his mock-frown. Unusually it was his husband who started the normal banter over her use of the formal title.

“That title is no longer applicable for my dear husband, Katie. I am afraid you are going to have to give into his total disregard for propriety and use his given name or,” - Katie raised her eyebrow waiting for the other shoe to drop, Mr Holmes-Lestrade contained with a sly smile, - “use his new, well-earned title of Detective Chief Inspector.”

Katie's hands flew to her mouth and she had to fight down the urge to jump up and down, but she couldn't halt the words that tumbled from her; “Oh Gregory! At last! Congratulations!”

She hurried forward and almost threw her arms around his neck before she caught herself and offered him a handshake instead. Laughing he shook her hand and gave her a bow; “Would have tried harder for the promotion if I knew that was all it took to get you to use my first name.”

Katie huffed and fondly rolled her eyes, employing a tone she had learned from her grandma she tutted; “You devil. Not a word to the rest of the staff.”

Gregory grinned and was clearly ready to tease her, but Mr Homles-Lestrade caught his husband by the collar and whispered something in his ear that turned Gregory beetroot. He cleared his throat and gave Katie a sheepish smile; “Either way, after all this time, you're practically family lass, please, call me Greg.”

He considered her 'practically family', that choked her up enough so all she could do was nod. 

“Which means you shall have to call me Mycroft,” said Mr Holmes-Lestrade without an trace of jest in his tone.

Katie blinked. When he had been just Mr Holmes, he had a reputation for being stuck up, just another posh bloke, she knew better now, but she'd never expected to be granted the use of his first name. She was about to use her new privilege and invite them inside to their suite when she recalled the thing that had been making her so nervous before their arrival.

“Before you go to your suite, I wonder if you would be kind enough to join me in the gardens. There is a matter I need to inform you both of.”

They shared a brief confused look before taking each others hand and nodding at her to lead the way. When she had said gardens, she had been bending the truth a little, where she led them was not the formal gardens open to the guests, but to a side section through a gate in a hedge.

It was now or never.

“We were hit rather hard by the recent storms,” - rip that plaster off fast she thought, - “the oak, your oak took a lightning strike.”

The gasped curse from both of them twisted her heart.

“It is still standing, but we did have to take down some for safety's sake.” 

Katie risked a glance at the gentlemen. Oh sweet heavens, they were clinging to each other, this was worse than she'd imagined. Thankfully Esme had noted their arrival and stepped forward. Katie rapidly introduced Cliveden's head forester and let her take over in her no nonsense manner.

“Gentleman. She took a hit, yes, but she'd a tough old oak and she's fine. We've had to take down half of the canopy and a third of the trunk, but her roots are deep and she'll stand another century or two I reckon. We don't like waste here,” - she produced a worn notebook from one of her many pockets, - “I understand you are as fond of her as myself, this is what we are thinking of to use the timber.”

Katie hardly dared breathe as Gregory and Mycroft looked at the technical drawings Esme had made of the roofed bench she was planing to build around the oak tree from the lightning struck timber.

Esme gave them time to examine her design and then threw Katie a wink before she said; “Perfect place for picnics, I'm thinking.”

The Holmes-Lestrade picnics under the oak were famous in Cliveden. Another of the wonderfully romantic things the two men did that melted the hearts of the staff. Katie always made certain there was a packet of salt and vinegar crisps for Gregory to install in his own sandwiches in the basket. 

Both Katie and Esme looked away as the two men rested their foreheads together and exchanged whispered words. The moments felt like hours and from the corner of her eye Katie saw the ever stoic Esme cross her fingers and glance skywards. 

Finally, (thought it was only at most three minutes later), Mycroft cleared his throat.

“Once again Cliveden guest services have gone above and beyond, this is amazing...”

He trailed off in what might have been a sob. Gregory smoothly took over for him.

“Fantastic, this is, but can we be cheeky and ask for one more thing?”

Katie threw Esme a cocky grin, she hoped she'd anticipated this right. As Esme retrieved the package from another of her endless pockets Katie turned to the gentlemen and said; “We thought you might like a personal memento of the oak, so we had this slice of one of the branches carved for you.”

She watched as very carefully Mycroft and Gregory unwrapped the oval shaped segment of oak branch. Katie had chosen a segment about six inches by four, not over large, but not too small either she hoped. Burned into one flat side was an oak tree, and carved into the bark around the edge was their wedding date and their initials.

For a long moment Katie was sure that a tree could have fallen in the woods and it wouldn't have made a sound. As one the two men looked up at her with glistening eyes.

“Thank you. Thank you.”

Katie's heart burst in her chest, it took her two attempts to find her voice; “It is my pleasure gentlemen. May I show you up to your suite now?”

“We're gonna take a stroll first.”

“Of course. The Orkney Suite is ready and waiting for you.”

Arm in arm they turned away towards the grounds. Esme had time to quickly swiped a hand over her face, just before they paused and turned back to say; “The bench. It's wonderful, you are truly skilled in your craft, ma'am.”

“Thank you gentlemen.”

With a final nod they left, arms wrapped around each other, heads close together over their gift. Katie suspected it would be at least an hour before they headed up to their suite.

Esme took a deep shuddering breath and sighed out; “Bloody hell. I didn't believe the stories from you lot, but fuck me they are so...”

Katie patted her shoulder; “I know. A love like that, it's just so....”


End file.
